A/N: Alright now I'm really stopping lol. I need to do some of the other fics hehe hope you like and LEAVE ME A REVIEW PLEASE I dunno I'll give you…I don't know what should I give : )

---------

I AM RIGHT, I SWEAR I'M RIGHT

-DEAN POV-

All right, Sam here it is. I'm letting go. I'm going to pull out of this strangling embrace. Are you ready?

And for the record, I checked. There's no page in dad's journal on how to deal with a broken brother. So, I'm coming up with this as I go along. Using my brother as a guinea pig.

Just thought you should know.

I checked his forehead in an extremely discreet way. He didn't notice, but I did. He has a fever. He's past his breaking point and right now, he needs rest. He just needs to stop crying.

Stop crying, goddamnit!

I'll pull out and hold him by his shoulders firmly. I might shake him a few times to get him back to normal. I'll help my brother up. I'll sit him down. I'll say 'Be back in a sec'. I'll get the first aid kit. I'll clean the cuts.

I'm Dean Winchester. Trust me. I know what I'm doing.

I do it. I follow through with my plan and try my best to ignore the looks of hurt on his face. The body language that's only asking for one thing. All he's doing is asking for me to take him into my arms and never let go. And I'm denying him. I'm a rejecting my own brother.

I'm your brother. I know what I'm doing.

"Come on Sammy, let's get you in bed…"

He groans and more tears start to fall. He's dying for me to do something and I know what it is. He'll never ask. I'll never ask. It just won't get done.

"Dean…"

His voice is so broken. I haven't heard him really try to talk all day and the only word he whispers is 'Dean'. All he can think to say is my name. And I'm such an ass. I just hush him; make his eyes go down in embarrassment. Make even more tears spill from those eyes. Sam, if you don't end up driving himself over the edge, I fear I might do it for you. Where's the 'good big brother mode' when you need it?

By this time I'm cleaning his cuts. They're still bleeding and I can't stand it. I can't let one more drop of blood fall out of his body. This needs to stop. I'm going to make it all stop.

I'm a Winchester. I know what I'm doing.

"Dean… Don't make me sleep."

He's broken. He's begging me. He's begging for me to listen, but I won't do it. All I care about is myself. My emotions. What's going to happen to me if I take 10 minutes out of my life to listen a broken brother? A brother that needs me so much right now.

I shake my head in response and I don't even have to look to know his eyes are filling with tears. Sure, Sam can cry. Sam can let people know about his emotions, but never like this. Sam cried less when he was a baby. Sam cried less while he was in complete agony. I guess a brother who doesn't care is more hurtful than any injury. Any torture.

"Sam, stop crying right now!"

I can't believe myself. I can't be Dean Winchester, I just can't be.

I'm someone. I think I know what I'm doing.

Sam's just looking down, holding his hands out for me to bandage them up. I put the bandages tight to keep anymore evil from getting in. I barely even notice I've destroyed him with five words. With five words I've shut him out. I've pushed him away. I've left him all alone in the information I refused to hear.

I push him down to lie on his back, after fluffing his pillow. I strip my bed of its blanket and cover my sobbing brother with it. As I'm tucking the edges under him I realize he's trying to reach out to me. His bandaged hand is open and searching. He's searching for human touch. For compassion. He's searching for my pity.

But he finds nothing. All he finds is air and disappointment. I can't touch my brother right now. I might break him. I might hurt him more than I already have.

I'm right. I know what I'm doing.

"Close your eyes Sammy. Go to sleep…"

That's all I say. I can't even say sorry.

He does as he's told and slowly lets his eyes close. Whether or not he's going to sleep, I don't know. But his breathing has calmed and now the tears are falling slowly from the creases of his eyes. They're silent now. I can't hear them. Now they're only killing him not me.

I need a slap in the face. I need a fucking reality check.

I need someone to tell me I'm wrong.

I kneel down by that goddamn pile of glass and start picking it up but I don't let myself get cut. I'm aware of the sharp points. I see the slightly smaller pile of glass stained with blood. I can't touch that pile now. Not yet.

I glance at my brother every once and a while. I've given up on the watching thing. Because all that did was make me blind. All that did was start us on this downward spiral to destruction or pain or death. Whatever the future might hold for us.

My brother is struggling. Like invisible arms are holding him down. Even when he's asleep he's willing me to comfort him. But I can't. Right now there's no one to stroke his head. No one to hold his hand. No one can tell him we're going to be ok. No more fingers to softly dry his tears. I can't do it. I've never seen my brother this broken. He deserves someone so much better. Someone who can help him.

I throw away the glass and clean up as much of the destruction as I can. And Sam has to be sleeping by now. There's no way he's lying there awake. He can't be listening to me. Because when I'm finished cleaning I can't help myself from letting a few tears fall, and they aren't silent.

I'm weak. Someone with any strength wouldn't give up on their brother when they need him the most. No brother in his right mind would do this.

I have to be right. I can't really have destroyed my brother. I can't be the reason he's like this.

I'm Dean Winchester. I'm your brother. And I have no idea what I've done.